


A Certain Smile

by dsa_archivist



Category: due South
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2000-08-12
Updated: 2000-08-12
Packaged: 2018-11-10 06:19:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11121615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dsa_archivist/pseuds/dsa_archivist
Summary: Ray's feeling frisky





	A Certain Smile

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Speranza, the archivist: this story was once archived at [Due South Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Due_South_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Due South Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/duesoutharchive).

A Certain Smile

## A Certain Smile

by Alison

Author's notes: This is just something I wrote to relieve the tension of all those angsty ones I usually churn out. It was also written to thank Sarah. Otters, as ever are mine.

* * *

**A CERTAIN SMILE**

"Hey Frase!" 

I look up. Ray is breezing into my office, as ever completely uninterested in anything, which could be mistaken for courtesy. No, that's wrong. He's a polite and courteous man, but I can only assume that having realised I am occupied only with reprimanding Turnbull, he can dispense with the usual formalities. 

"Ray," I say politely. "I'll be with you in just a minute." 

"I can wait," he says, and leans against the wall next to the door, arms folded, looking suspiciously cheerful and alert. He's very obviously not planning on moving. 

"Very well. Constable Turnbull, that will be all." I cannot, in all decency, continue with reprimand with Ray present. 

Turnbull manages a very smart about-face and leaves the office. As he walks towards the door Ray pulls himself away from the wall and winks at him. The back of Turnbull's neck goes the same colour as his tunic. 

Ray closes the door behind Turnbull and leans against it, then looks at me again. His expression has changed; he's no longer cheerful and alert. Now his eyes are hooded, his lips slightly parted. He leans back against the door and I can read the challenge in that gaze. One of those beautiful hands of his runs its way down his chest and comes to rest on the belt of his jeans. 

"Ray, don't," I say, trying to hang on to some semblance of sanity. "Don't do that to me, not here." 

"What'm I doing, Frase?" he asks. "I'm just leaning here waiting for you to finish whatever it is you're doing." 

"No, I think you're leaning there waiting for me to start something," I answer. 

In three strides I am around the desk and pinning him against the door. Just before I claim his mouth in a none too gentle kiss, I see the smug expression on his face. He's won again. 

He breaks the kiss and leans his head back so that I can reach his neck, which I proceed to bite gently. 

"What did Turnbull do, then?" he asks, and I bite a little less gently, making him flinch. 

"Only you could do this Ray," I say, looking up at him. "You come in here, you instigate this, and then you ask about Turnbull!" 

"Fraser, if I don't take my mind off what you're doing, this whole instigating thing would have been worth about 30 seconds of my time." He puts a hand on the back of my head and pulls me down again so that I can continue what I had been doing. Before long he begins to moan very quietly, way down in his throat, and starts to move against my body, one leg working its way between mine. 

Sliding my hands under his t-shirt I rest them on his stomach, exerting pressure with my thumbs, then relaxing. Each time I press down he pushes against me, his back arching a little away from the door. As I relax he relaxes, but he moves his hips in counterpoint to that rhythm, rubbing himself against me. 

"So tell me," he says a little breathlessly. "What has Turnbull done?" 

I lean my full weight against him and let him set the pace. One hand remains on his stomach while the other works lower, opening the belt and fly of his jeans with, I modestly admit, the ease of long practice. 

"Do you really want to know?" I ask, and my own voice is somewhat shaky. I push his jeans a little way down around his hips until I can reach his erection, which I grasp roughly, making him jerk his head back so that it bangs against the door. 

"Ow! I mean what? I mean ... oh * fuck * Fraser, oh god..." 

He's moving faster now, thrusting into my hand, his own hands clenched in my hair, holding my face no more than an inch away from his so that we share the same air. He leans forward, mouth open, and I kiss him. He can't kiss me back, not properly, since I've got him almost to the edge, but he moans into my mouth in a way I cannot help but find deeply erotic. 

"Ray," I say against his lips. "I want to see you come. Come for me..." He thrusts harder into my hand, slamming into the door and making an incredible amount of noise. Thank goodness Inspector Thatcher is out at the moment. 

I feel his stomach muscles start to quiver and realise he's close. He buries his head in the crook of my neck and bites the tendon there to stop himself from crying out loud. I feel the warmth and dampness on my hand. He starts to sag against the door and I quickly remove my hand from his stomach and hold him close. 

We stand together for a full minute as he gets his breath back, then he raises his head and looks at me, sweaty and bright eyed. He doesn't speak, but he kisses me on the tip of my nose and slides through my grasp until he's kneeling on the floor in front of me. With no further ado, he burrows his way through my various layers until he has my uniform pants puddled around my ankles and my boxers halfway down my thighs. 

Kissing the head of my erect penis, he looks up at me and winks, just like he did at Turnbull, and then he swallows me whole. 

I cry out softly and thrust myself into his mouth. Ray puts his hands on my hips to try and control what I'm doing but I'm too close to really consider his needs and wants. That clever mouth and tongue are doing things to me that should be deemed illegal and when he slides one of his hands around me, insinuating a finger between my ass cheeks it's too much for me and I come hard into his eager mouth, leaning against the door in my turn. 

He releases me and sits back on his heels looking up. Very deliberately he runs his tongue along his bottom lip and, sated as I am, I feel a distinct twitch. 

"You," I say breathlessly, "will pay for this later." 

"Good," he says, eyes shining. 

He stands up, sliding up the door so that he's pressed against me again. He smells of sex and sweat and it is an utterly erotic combination. He grins at me then leans in for a kiss. 

"You just gonna stand there with your pants round your ankles Constable?" he asks. "Don't like to think what the Ice Queen will say." He pauses. "Or Turnbull actually. D'you know, we have to get that guy laid." 

"No!" I say it without thinking, and he looks at me quizzically. 

"No?" he repeats. "Why? Permanent virgin or something?" 

"Not at all," I say, perhaps a little primly bearing in mind the position I find myself in. "It's just that, well ...." 

"What?" he prompts. 

"Well, because the only person Turnbull has eyes for is you," I say in one breath, keeping my eyes trained somewhere on his left shoulder. 

"What?!" Ray erupts into laughter, resting against the door. "Turnbull? Me? No way." 

"Yes way," I say, bending down and picking up my pants. Ray takes over fastening them for me always a dangerous option, but worth the risk. 

"Why d'you say that?" asks Ray. 

"You only have to watch his face when you're around," I begin, finally pushing his hands away. "He's like some kind of moonstruck calf. Whilst I accept that even at the best of times he is not, shall we say, co-ordinated in the strict sense of the word, he usually manages to get the door open before he walks through it. He broke a rather expensive ornament yesterday when you said that he looked good in the uniform." 

"Oh I remember that," says Ray. "Well, he does. He was walking down the corridor and I was just thinking that as asses go, his is pretty nice. Just wanted to share it with him." 

"Ray!" I say and he stops talking, but his eyes are still full of mischief. He knows exactly what he's doing when he's like this. I do my best to stop my possessive nature taking over because if I try to hold Ray then I will lose him. But he's a natural flirt and he does like to tease... He's mine, heart and soul, but he doesn't always make it easy. 

He pushes away from the door, ducking under my arm in the process and goes to perch on the edge of my desk. He's thinking about something and that can be dangerous. 

"So if Turnbull really wants my ass what're we going to do about it?" he asks, and I just manage to miss a splutter. 

"We're not going to do anything about it!" I finally say. "Turnbull will just have to get over it." 

"Over what?" he asks innocently, and I feel myself scowl and that makes him laugh. 

"Sometimes you're no fun," he says, pushing himself further onto the desk so that his feet are off the ground. He grins at me, and it's pure evil. "Call him in," he says. 

"No, Ray," I say. "I don't need him and...." I stop. How does he do this to me? 

"And you and me look like we just got it on," he finishes. "Call him in. You don't, I do. How do you want it?" 

I do my best to glare at him, but end up doing what he wants, opening the door and summoning Turnbull, who is sitting at his desk starting straight ahead. He is so obviously trying to ignore what he knows has been going on in here, but as he stands up he gives a definite tug to his uniform. Hiding the evidence, as Ray would say. 

He walks towards my office and stops dead in the doorway. Ray has shifted even further back on the desk and has managed to accidentally forget to fasten the top button of his jeans. He is leaving nothing to the imagination. He looks like the most beautiful and sinful thing on the planet. That lovely shade of crimson is working its way back up Turnbull's neck. 

"Hey Turnbull," says Ray. "How's it going?" 

"Very well thank you, detective," says Turnbull in a rather choked tone of voice. 

"Good, good." He slides slowly off the desk and comes towards the door. Turnbull appears to have been turned to stone. Ray closes the distance between them until they are no more than six inches apart. 

"If I'm going to get out of here," he say, "Then you're gonna have to move. Unless you want me to go through you." 

Turnbull moves to one side so fast that he cannons into me. I take a step backwards and knock into a stack of files, scattering papers everywhere. 

"Oops," says Ray. "I'll see you later Frase, okay? And Turnbull you have a good day, y'hear?" He * slides * around Turnbull and I see the poor man quiver. I should feel sorry for him. I do, in a way. I suppose. 

To be continued.... 


End file.
